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Far From Home
The weather was humid. But then, it was always humid in the swamp. That abysmal pit of muck, mud, and grime that the king had deceptively named, “the Wetlands.” It certainly sounded nicer than some of the more appropriate names Zalaina would have called it. The Black Swamp. The Festering Marsh. The Worst Place on Azeroth. Hell. Any of those would have fit. But the Wetlands sounded charming, in a rural sort of way. Almost like you might like to live there. And so you’d petition the king for a land grant, leave the capital city of Stormwind, cross the pass through Dun Algaz, find yourself in the bleakest, foulest, most godforsaken land imaginable, and then start wondering how you’d let yourself get screwed over so badly. The answer usually involved the elves somehow. Ever since the king had taken them into Stormwind following the destruction of their forests during the Second War, they’d been causing trouble. And now that they had worked their way into the upper levels of the king’s staff, things were worse than ever. Zalaina was glad she didn’t live there. A skittering sound behind her pulled Zalaina out of her reverie. Whirling around, she saw an enormous brown spider crawling towards her, its long spindly legs making a faint clacking sound on the cobblestones of the road, the closest thing to civilization that could be found in the swamp. She spread her legs a few feet apart and, staring at the spider, raised her arms to her sides. Her clothes ruffled in an invisible breeze, and then she suddenly thrust her arms forward. A blazing ball of fire streaked from her fingertips towards the spider. It squeaked and hissed briefly, before the fireball exploded in its face, splattering flaming goo across the road. Zalaina sniffed the air and made a face. She’d have to remember not to use a fire spell next time. Burning bugs smelled awful. She turned again and continued walking, a small mechanical squirrel bounding after her. Though it had no real intelligence and did little more than follow her around, she never went anywhere without it. It was one of the few remnants she had of her childhood. Zalaina had grown up in the magic city of Dalaran. The city was run by a council of wizards known as the Kirin Tor, and nearly all of the people who lived there had some degree of magical knowledge. Zalaina, of course, was no exception, and was always at the head of her classes in magical theory and application. She also had a knack for technical things, and when not practicing her spellwork she was frequently found tinkering with some contraption or another. She was only ten years old when she built Fidget, her mechanical squirrel. A few simple spells ensured both that it would continue to work until it was destroyed, and that it would always follow her, no matter where she went. All of her teachers, as well as her parents, knew that she had great potential, and would probably end up sitting with the Kirin Tor someday. Of course, that was before prince Arthas betrayed his people to the undead and turned traitor. While the Kirin Tor made preparations for the defense of the city, they grossly underestimated the Scourge and soon Arthas and his undead legions were at Dalaran’s doorstep. The Kirin Tor threw everything they had at them, but it was too little, too late. The undead swept through the city, while outside the walls the undead lich, Kel’thuzad, summoned scores of demons to bolster their forces. In the end, Dalaran was destroyed and the Kirin Tor were butchered almost to a man. Only a handful of people escaped the carnage, the aftermath leaving a few homeless and thousands more dead. Zalaina sometimes thought that they were the lucky ones. She had wandered from town to town for the next several weeks, avoiding the demons and undead that still ravaged the land, finding food where she could, and sleeping under the stars. Eventually, though, she was discovered by some sea-faring dwarves that had come ashore to restock their supplies of ale. They called themselves the Northfury Privateers, but that was really just a fancy way of saying they were pirates. They would never openly admit it, of course. Seeing this haggard, starving, sixteen-year old girl, the dwarves had offered to take her in and allow her to stay on the ship. Zalaina was wary at first, but the dwarves seemed nice, and she figured a few weeks at sea might be good for her. She could always leave when they put into port again. A few weeks turned into a few months, however, and a few months turned into a few years. She had had every intention of leaving at first, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. The dwarves always expected her to be gone when they pulled up anchor and put out to sea again, but it seemed she always had some excuse for why she remained. She wanted to get over her seasickness first (despite never having gotten seasick). Some big men were eyeing her suspiciously (though she could easily have roasted them with little more than a glance). She was sick and needed the ship’s medic to heal her (even though there were better medics and more supplies on shore). In the end, she had finally admitted to herself that she felt at home with the dwarves, and then told Captain Tagnor that she wanted to join the crew. And now she was now twenty-two, and held the position of ship’s sorceress. She continued to think back on her past as she walked up the gangplank and onto the deck of the Wavecutter, barely noticing Captain Tagnor standing in her path. “Zalaina!” he shouted. “Watch where ye’re goin’, lass! Ye almost tripped over me! Ah’ve had other crewmen keelhauled fer less!” Zalaina blinked and brushed back a few strands of her shoulder-length blonde hair. She tried to look horrified, but found herself smiling instead. She knew Tagnor would never do anything like that, no matter how much he joked that he would. Seeing this, Tagnor was forced to smile too. “Well, maybe ah’ll let ye off with a warnin’ this time, lass. Did ye find it?” “Of course,” she said, pulling an enormous ruby from one of the pouches on her belt. “It was exactly where the map said it would be. Should fetch a nice price when we pull in at Booty Bay.” “Look at th’ size o’ that gem… That’ll buy us a year’s supply o’ ale, at least!” He tilted his head back and gave a deep laugh, his long black beard sliding around on his chest. “Ye’ve done well, lass! Ah ken always count on ye t’ get things done. Now put it in th’ cargo hold, an’ let’s get out o’ this place.” Zalaina nodded and headed down to the hold. “Raise th’ anchor, ye lazy slobs!” Tagnor shouted to the rest of the crew. “There’s a storm brewin’, an’ ah want t’ be in Booty Bay before dark!” Zalaina smiled as she walked through the ship. It was good to be home.